Toronto or Victoria? And the answer is: Yes!

After teaching me so patiently
that borders are arbitrary
that shoreline, horizon
are notions,
not stone,
liquid meeting sky
in an infinity
of infinite, intricate,
infinitessimally minuscule
exchanges,
liquid meeting solid
in similar infinities,
now he tells me
that in real life
we have to come down
on one side or the other:
I will be here.
or
I will be there.
Until we get old,
he says.
The graying of hair
brings with it privileges.
Black or white decisions
recede
to the gracefulness of gray
the grace of gray
Victoria or Toronto?
Yes!
Let the reach of my spirit's hands
grow as I age
Let me grasp surely
and loving,
both horns.
Let dilemmas
be possibilities.
Let me step on the cracks.
Let me say
a liquid, formless Shehechiyanu
on this summery solstice day
of winter